“Lyuda, hi, it’s Alla,” her former sister-in-law’s voice sounded flat and official, like she was calling from the utilities company about meter readings. “Is this a good time to talk?”
“Hello, Alla, yes, it’s a good time,” Lyudmila said, actually setting her knitting aside—the call was that unexpected.
“I’ll stop by on Saturday, around eleven. Denis will give me a ride, he knows about it. I won’t take up much of your time, just about forty minutes.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just need to discuss a few things about Mom,” Alla replied businesslike. “It’s hard to talk on the phone, there are some papers.”
“Alright, you can come over,” Lyudmila agreed, feeling a bit lost.
“See you Saturday, then.”
And with that, Alla hung up without waiting for her former sister-in-law to ask anything else. Lyudmila sat for a moment with the phone in her hand, trying to remember the last time they talked for more than a minute. Turns out it was ten years ago, when she was packing her bags in the hallway and Alla stood by the door explaining that a respectable woman doesn’t abandon her family at forty-seven. Since then, all communication had boiled down to a yearly message: “Lyuda, happy birthday, wishing you health and all the best.” Lyudmila would reply, “Thank you, Alla, same to you,” and that was it until the next October. A couple of times they crossed paths at their granddaughter’s birthday, nodded politely, and sat at opposite ends of the table. No fights, everything grown-up and, as her friend Sveta said, civilized.
“Mom, did Aunt Alla call you?” Denis called her that evening.
“She did. Do you know what she wants to talk about?”
“Well, more or less,” her son hesitated. “It’s about Grandma. She’ll explain everything herself—she’s got it all planned out.”
“Denis, should I be worried?”
“No, don’t be,” he replied a bit too cheerfully. “Just regular family stuff. I’ll call you when we’re on our way.”
It was exactly these “family matters” that made Lyudmila wary. She hadn’t really thought of herself as part of the Kravtsov family for ten years now, and in that time, she’d almost forgotten what it was like for someone from them to want to “discuss” anything with her. She only heard about Nina Petrovna from what Denis told her. In the spring, her former mother-in-law fell in the bathroom, had to use a walker since then, started getting the days of the week mixed up, and now lived with her daughter. Back then, Lyudmila sent her best wishes and a bag of the good cottage cheese snacks Nina Petrovna always loved through her son, but she didn’t call. It felt like the right thing for everyone.
“Just don’t overthink things,” advised Sveta, after Lyudmila told her about the call. “Maybe they’re dividing up an inheritance and want you to sign something for Denis.”
continued in the comments
“There’s nothing to divide. Nina Petrovna only has a one-bedroom on Zarechnaya, and even that’ll go half and half to Gena and Alla.”
“Then they just want to talk. People soften up with age.”
For twenty-four years of Lyudmila’s marriage, Nina Petrovna never softened. She moved in when Denis was five, supposedly «just for a month while my apartment is being renovated,» but ended up living with them for eighteen years. The renovation in her tiny flat on Zarechnaya was finished pretty quickly, the place was rented out, but the mother-in-law stayed on in what used to be the kids’ room. Denis had to sleep on a fold-out cot in the living room, and Lyudmila moved her life into a checkered notebook. Every evening, Nina Petrovna would sit at the kitchen table and write the next day’s tasks: «Lyuda — receipts, buckwheat, call the housing office, wash the bedspreads.» In the morning, the notebook waited by the kettle, and in the evening, her mother-in-law checked everything off.
«Gena, this isn’t normal,» Lyudmila tried to reason with her husband in those early years. «I work all day, and I still get assignments like I’m a schoolgirl.»
«Lyuda, it just makes Mom feel better,» Gennady would brush her off. «She’s managed the household her whole life; she knows best. Don’t start.»
«Don’t start» became the main family rule. Lyudmila didn’t say anything when her mother-in-law rearranged all the dishes in the cupboards «the right way.» She never objected when Gennady took her salary card «for the family fund,» because his mother said family money should be held in one hand. No complaints when her shoes in the hallway started sitting on top of newspaper, or when Thursday became fish day even though only Nina Petrovna liked fish. It all ended at a simple family dinner celebrating Denis’s diploma, when her mother-in-law told the guests that Lyudmila had lived her whole life off everyone else, and Gennady nodded in agreement as he served himself some salad. The next day, Lyudmila went to see a realtor.
The apartment sale was long and stressful. Nina Petrovna didn’t believe her daughter-in-law was serious until the very end, and then she still couldn’t accept she’d have to move back to her place on Zarechnaya. With her share and a loan, Lyudmila bought a two-bedroom in a prefabricated high-rise on the outskirts. It took six years to pay off, but now every item in that apartment was exactly where she wanted it. Shoes lined up neatly in the hall on a striped rug, and the second room housed a sewing machine and a crib for her granddaughter Ksyusha, who visited every other weekend. On Saturdays, Lyudmila had back massages, in the summer she stayed at her parents’ dacha, and in winter she made dresses for Ksyusha and knitted socks for the cat Musya, who would immediately pull them off. She never bought another checkered notebook out of principle.
On Saturday, right at eleven, Denis called to say they were on their way up. Alla walked in, carrying a large bag and a blue plastic folder, and instantly pulled shoe covers out of her pocket, slipping them over her boots.
«I’m not taking my shoes off, my knees are bad—I wouldn’t be able to put them back on,» she explained as she looked around. «Do you have a measuring tape? Never mind, I brought my own.»
Lyudmila didn’t even have time to ask anything before Alla pulled a construction tape measure from her bag and pressed it against the bathroom door frame.
«Sixty-two centimeters,» she announced, jotting something into her phone. «A walker fits… but just barely.»
«What walker?» Lyudmila asked, confused.
— They’re Mom’s. Let me explain, let’s sit down.
Denis had been standing in the hallway the whole time, staring so closely at his sneakers as if he’d never seen them before.
— Come on in, sweetheart, the kettle just boiled, — his mom called to him.
— I’m fine here, Mom, I’ll just stand, — Denis mumbled, but under his aunt’s watchful eye, he went into the kitchen anyway.
Alla took a seat at the table, slid the dish of rusks aside, and put a folder in front of her. She pulled out a few stapled sheets and turned the first one toward Lyudmila.
— Here, take a look, — she said in the tone of someone reading out a board’s resolution. — I wrote everything out so there wouldn’t be any confusion.
The sheet had a table printed from the computer. At the top, in large letters: “Schedule of care for Kravtsova N.P., September — December.” The days of the week ran across and the hours down the side. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings had “Alla.” Saturday and Sunday read “Denis / Gena (every other week).” And on Tuesday and Thursday from 6 to 10 p.m., in careful lettering, it said “Lyudmila.” At the bottom, a separate line: “May — August: Lyudmila’s dacha.”
— What’s this? — Lyudmila glanced up at her former sister-in-law.
— It’s a schedule, — Alla explained patiently. — Mom’s living with me right now. During the day, a caregiver comes from nine to three on weekdays. That’s forty thousand a month. In the evenings and at night, it’s me, on weekends too. Valera’s about to lose it, he says he married me, not my mother. So I made this schedule so we can all share the load equally.
— Equally — Lyudmila repeated. — But what does this have to do with me?
— Who else? — Alla asked, genuinely surprised. — You lived with her for twenty years, you know all her habits. We’re already on our third caregiver—mom gets rid of them in a month. But she’s used to you.
— Alla, we’ve been divorced for ten years.
— So what? You’re still Denis’s mom. And she’s Denis’s grandma. We’re not strangers to each other.
Lyudmila looked over at her son. Denis was hunched over his mug, carefully stirring sugar he hadn’t put in.
— Denis, have you seen this?
He first looked at his aunt, almost as if checking, and only then turned to his mother.
— Yeah, Mom, I’ve seen it, — he said. — Aunt Alla said you two would figure it out.
— And nobody thought to ask me?
— That’s what I’m doing now, — Alla cut in. — That’s why I came in person, not over the phone. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you work until five—you’re home by five-thirty, I checked. You’d make it to my place by six, just twenty minutes by bus from yours.
— And who did you check with? — Lyudmila asked.
— With Denis, of course, who else.
Denis kept stirring the sugar, even though his spoon was already clinking against the empty bottom.
— And what about Gena? — Lyudmila persisted. — He only shows up every other weekend in the schedule.
— Gena pays twenty thousand for the caregiver, — Alla tapped her fingernail on a second sheet, which was a table of expenses. — He can’t give more, because of Tamara. Tamara has high blood pressure, can’t get stressed, so Mom can’t stay with them, and Gena can’t be away for long either.
— But Gena has a mother too.
— Lyuda, don’t start, — Alla winced, and Lyudmila flinched. That tone was all too familiar.
Meanwhile, Alla flipped to the next page and opened something on her phone.
«Now, about the dacha,» she said. «Is your bathroom inside or outside?»
«Inside the house.»
«That’s good. How many steps are there on your porch?»
«Four, I think,» Lyudmila answered automatically, then caught herself. «Wait, what dacha?»
«Well, Mom should be with you for the summer, since you stay there all season. Fresh air, the garden—it’s good for her. And maybe I could finally take a vacation for the first time in five years,» Alla was typing quickly as she spoke. «Are there railings on your porch?»
«Yes, there are.»
«On one side or both?»
«Alla, are you even listening to me?»
«I’m listening, Lyuda, I’m just taking notes. Does the cat stay with you at the dacha too?»
«Musya goes everywhere with me.»
«Well, the cat will have to stay with Denis for the summer. Mom is allergic to fur and can’t sleep all night if she starts sneezing.»
«We already have Ksyusha, and Olya won’t allow it,» Denis muttered under his breath.
«We’ll figure it out,» Alla dismissed him, not even looking in his direction.
Then she got up from the table and started walking around the apartment like someone inspecting a property. Lyudmila followed, not sure how to stop all this without causing a scene. In the hallway, Alla paused by the striped rug where Lyudmila’s shoes were placed.
«You’ll have to move all this,» she said. «The shoes are right in the way—Mom could trip. And be sure to get rid of that rug, old people always fall on rugs like that.»
«Mom will be at your place on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not mine,» Lyudmila reminded her.
«That’s on weekdays. But on weekends, when her treatments are in the city, it’s easier for her to stay over at your place since it’s closer to the clinic. Besides, your second room is free anyway.»
«It’s not free. The sewing machine’s in there, and Ksyusha’s crib.»
«Move the sewing machine to the balcony,» Alla replied, opening the door to the second room and giving it an appraising look. «Take the crib apart—Ksyusha can sleep on a folding bed, she’s not royalty. Denis slept on a folding bed when he was little, and he turned out fine.»
Lyudmila wanted to remind her that Denis only slept on a folding bed because his grandmother moved into his room, but she stayed quiet. Her son was standing in the hallway, studying the light switch.
In the kitchen, Alla opened the refrigerator without asking.
«I need it for planning meals,» she explained. «The caregiver will cook, I’ll write her a shopping list, and in summer, you’ll use the same list so Mom sticks to her diet. Okay, store-bought dumplings. Blue cheese,» she picked up the pack with two fingers. «Lyuda, that’s five hundred rubles for a piece like that. Do you eat it all by yourself?»
«Yes, just me,» Lyudmila replied calmly. «I like it.»
«Mom can’t have that, it’s too salty, you know that,» Alla said, closing the fridge and sitting back at the table. «Now about the money. I’ve done the math so you understand. If you can’t do Tuesday and Thursday, we’ll need an evening caregiver too—that’s another twenty thousand. Gena and I can’t afford that. Denis said you go for massage every Saturday, that’s two and a half thousand each time.»
«It seems Denis tells you a lot,» Lyudmila said, glancing at her son, who rubbed his nose.
«Well, that’s ten thousand a month,» Alla continued without missing a beat. «That’s almost half the cost of an evening caregiver. I’m not saying you shouldn’t, just that there are priorities.»
Just then, Alla’s phone rang. Lyudmila happened to catch the name “Mommy” flashing on the screen, alongside a photo of Nina Petrovna in a beret—a picture taken years ago. Alla seemed to straighten up in her chair and her voice instantly became high-pitched and rushed.
‘Yes, Mom. Yes, I’m at Lyuda’s, just like we agreed. No, not for long, I’ll be heading out soon. I picked up kefir, the one-percent kind just like you asked. The pills in the blue box are in the kitchen, on the top shelf. No, Valera didn’t touch them. Mom, really, he didn’t, I would know. Okay. Okay, Mom. Yes, I’ll tell her.’
Alla ended the call, reached into her bag, and pulled out a battered grid-lined notebook. She opened it to a bookmarked page, found the right line, and carefully checked off ‘kefir.’ Lyudmila couldn’t help but notice the familiar, sharply right-slanted handwriting and the way every line started with a name. Suddenly, she realized she couldn’t just sit there calmly any longer.
‘Is it Nina Petrovna who writes to you?’ she asked.
‘Who else?’ Alla replied matter-of-factly, tucking the notebook back in her bag. ‘She writes every evening—it calms her down. Oh, by the way, Mom told me to tell you she’s expecting you on Tuesday. She says you were the best at washing her in the bath—you have such steady hands.’
Lyudmila remembered how she used to help her mother-in-law bathe on Saturdays because Nina Petrovna was afraid of slipping and Gennady refused to go into the bathroom with his mother—he was embarrassed. Her mother-in-law always complained that the water was too hot, then too cold, then the towel was wrong. Lyudmila never once heard a word of thanks. But everyone in the family heard about the towel at the holiday table once.
‘Alla, when was the last time you had a day off?’ she suddenly asked.
At first her former sister-in-law wanted to say something cheerful, but then she just paused and shrugged.
‘Probably in April. Before Mom fell.’
‘And the money from Mom’s apartment on Zarechnaya—where does that go? You’re renting it out, aren’t you?’
‘Part of it goes to medicine,’ Alla hesitated a bit. ‘Part goes to Yulia. Yulia’s on maternity leave with a mortgage, her husband is supporting them both. I send her twenty-five thousand every month from my own pocket, too. Lyuda, I only have four thousand on my card until payday—I didn’t come to you with this folder because my life is easy.’
Lyudmila suddenly felt genuine sympathy for her. Sitting across from her was a tired fifty-six-year-old woman, wearing shoe covers over her boots, with a notebook of errands in her bag and a husband who was losing his mind. This was the same woman who, ten years ago, stood in a doorway and talked about decency. Lyudmila suddenly saw very clearly who actually lived an easy life in this family and did what she’d learned in accounting, not from Nina Petrovna—she calculated.
«Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,» she said calmly. «Mom’s apartment is being rented out, with part of the money going towards Yulia’s mortgage. Gena pays twenty thousand and does nothing else because Tamara has high blood pressure. Denis helps every other weekend because it’s inconvenient for him. And me—I’m taking care every Tuesday and Thursday, spending all summer at my dacha without my cat, the second room without a washing machine or Ksyusha’s bed, and canceling my massage so as not to upset the priorities. And all of this is for free.»
continued in the comments
«Why do you say for free right away?» Alla said, sounding hurt. «We’ll bring groceries. Mom doesn’t eat much.»
«That’s true,» Lyudmila nodded. «That changes things.»
«Lyuda, are you being sarcastic right now?»
«I’m just thinking.»
«Well, think it over until Wednesday, I need to let the caregiver know,» Alla gathered the papers back into the folder, but left it on the table. «That’s for you—it has all the phone numbers, the list of medications, and Mom’s routine. I’ll also send it to you on messenger so it’s always handy.»
In the hallway, as Lyudmila handed her the jacket, Alla gently nudged Lyudmila’s shoes against the wall with the toe of her boot covered by a disposable shoe cover, clearing the way. She did this completely on autopilot, barely noticing what she was doing.
Denis lingered by the door, letting his aunt go to the elevator first.
«Mom, let’s not make a scene, okay?» he asked quietly. «Aunt Alla is already at her limit, you can see that. Besides, you spend your evenings at home alone anyway.»
«Will you really be going to Grandma’s on the weekends?»
«Well, every other weekend. Dad and I take turns.»
«Denis, did you also tell her about my work schedule? And the massage?»
«She asked, so I answered. What’s the big deal?» he replied in surprise. «Mom, it’s not like we’re strangers.»
«Denis, are you coming?» Alla’s voice called from the entrance, and in a rush, he gave his mom a quick kiss on the cheek and left.
Lyudmila locked the door and stood in the hallway for a long time, staring at her shoes pushed up against the wall. Then she moved them back onto the rug. Musya came right over to check if everything was in order and lay down directly on the stripes.
«So, what do you think about all this?» Lyudmila asked her.
Musya had no opinion. She was just stretching.
Sunday evening, the daughter-in-law called. Olya rarely called, and always about something specific, usually to confirm what time she should bring Ksyusha over.
«Lyudmila Sergeevna, sorry for calling so late,» she began, her voice unusually quiet. «I only found everything out yesterday, when Denis got back from your place. I feel really awkward about it.»
«Olya, what does this have to do with you?»
«I just don’t want you to think that I’m part of this,» Olya hurried to say. «Aunt Alla made the schedule a month ago. At first, Denis was supposed to have two weekday evenings. But he has a new boss at work and can’t ask for time off. So he worked it out with Aunt Alla that you’d take his place. Said that since you live alone anyway, it might even be more fun for you.»
«More fun,» Lyudmila echoed.
«I told him that wasn’t fair. That he should have at least asked you first. But he said you’re kind and wouldn’t say no anyway, since you’ve put up with grandma for twenty years.»
«Thank you, Olya, for calling. Honestly, thank you.»
«Just please don’t tell Denis I told you about all this, okay? He’s been sulking all day as it is.»
Ludmila made a promise, and then sat at the kitchen table for a while, poring over a blue folder. One sheet listed the medications, another sheet showed the daily schedule: get up at seven, breakfast at seven-thirty—oatmeal made with water and no salt. Walk up and down the hallway ten times. In the evening, watch TV until nine, then take pills from the blue box, and bathe on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The Tuesday and Thursday baths were highlighted in yellow.
At that moment, Ludmila couldn’t help but laugh. It became clear that on Tuesdays and Thursdays she was invited not just to keep company, but specifically to bathe Nina Petrovna—because Alla’s hands trembled, Gena had Tamara, and Denis had his boss. The rest of the schedule was just for appearances.
On Monday at lunchtime, she stopped by Irina Pavlovna’s office in the legal department. They had worked together for a long time, and Irina Pavlovna always answered any question as calmly as if she were explaining a recipe.
«Ira, I have a purely theoretical question. Is a former daughter-in-law obligated to look after her former mother-in-law?»
«A former daughter-in-law is no one to her, legally speaking,» replied Irina Pavlovna without looking up from her container of buckwheat. «Children are obliged to care for a mother—she has a son and a daughter, right? They should do it. As for you, Lyuda, you can help only if you want to, and no one can demand it of you.»
«That’s what I thought. Thank you.»
«Is someone asking you to?»
«Yes, they are,» nodded Ludmila. «With a schedule and a table of expenses.»
«Very serious people,» Irina Pavlovna chuckled, and went back to her buckwheat.
On Tuesday—the Tuesday in question—Ludmila didn’t go to Alla’s after work. Instead, she went to the market and bought blue fabric with tiny stars for Ksyusha’s New Year’s dress, then spent the entire evening cutting it on the table in the second room. The sewing machine was right where it belonged. Her phone lit up a couple of times with messages from Alla: first came the schedule in digital form, then a list of groceries for the caregiver, and finally, “Lyuda, have you thought about it?” Ludmila replied, “I’ve thought, I’ll call you Wednesday,” and turned off the sound.
On Wednesday, Alla called herself—before lunchtime.
«Lyuda, so? I have to give the caregiver an answer by tonight, she’s waiting.»
«Alla, I’ve thought about it,» Ludmila said calmly. «I’m not agreeing to the schedule. Not Tuesday, not Thursday, not the dacha.»
The pause was so long that Ludmila thought the call had dropped.
«So you’re refusing,» Alla finally said, and it wasn’t a question.
«I’m refusing the schedule,» Ludmila confirmed. «But I have a counteroffer. I can take Ksyusha every weekend—not every other weekend, but every weekend from Saturday to Sunday. That way, Denis and Olya can visit their grandma together, not every other week, but every week. It’ll be easier for you, too.»
«So you decided this for Denis?»
«No, I decided this for myself. Denis can decide for himself—he’s an adult.»
«And what about Mom?» Alla’s voice turned sharp. «Mom’s waiting for you, I already told her you’d come on Tuesday.»
«I’ll visit Nina Petrovna on Sunday—as a guest. I’ll bring her some marshmallows, the white-and-pink ones she likes. I’ll stay for an hour, keep her company. As a guest, Alla, not as a caregiver.»
“Lyuda, do you realize you’re leaving me in the lurch here? Now I have to look for an evening nurse, and that’s another twenty thousand.”
“I know,” Lyudmila agreed. “Call Gena. Tamara’s got high blood pressure, but Gena’s mother needs help too.”
“Gena has her own life.”
“I have my own life too,” Lyudmila replied. “I pieced it back together ten years ago, gave up half my apartment for it, and spent six years paying off the loan.”
“Wow,” Alla paused. “I always thought you were soft. Mom always said so too.”
“I’m still soft. Just not a pushover.”
“Is that your final decision?”
“Final. I’ll give the folder to Denis on Saturday when he brings Ksyusha. Everything is in order—I didn’t mix anything up.”
“Mom’s going to be very displeased,” Alla said coldly, as one last argument.
“Alla, your mom has been displeased with me since 1992, since the day we got married,” Lyudmila replied calmly. “I’ve gotten used to it by now. You should try it too—it’s not as scary as it sounds.”
Alla said nothing and hung up. Lyudmila sat for a bit, half-expecting Denis to call and criticize her, but the phone stayed silent. He only called later that evening, and his voice sounded different than usual.
“Mom, Aunt Alla said you refused.”
“I did, son.”
“And she also said you offered to take Ksyusha every weekend.”
“I did. That is, if it’s convenient for you and Olya.”
“It is,” Denis replied awkwardly, then was quiet for a moment. “Mom, are you mad at me?”
“A little, yes,” Lyudmila answered honestly. “You told everyone my schedule, counted my massage appointments, gave away my second room, but you forgot to ask me. That hurts, Denis.”
“I didn’t think you’d feel that way,” her son mumbled. “Aunt Alla sounded so sure about everything, I thought you’d already sorted it out. She’s always that way—she says something and everyone just does it.”
“I know how she talks. I’ve lived with it for eighteen years. Back then, though, it wasn’t Alla keeping the notebook—it was Grandma.”
“What notebook?”
“Doesn’t matter, son. Bring Ksyusha Saturday at ten. I started making her a dress with stars on it—she’ll need to try it on.”
“Okay, Mom. And are you really bringing marshmallows for Grandma?”
“I am. Only the pink-and-white ones—she won’t eat any other kind.”
Denis said goodbye in a normal voice this time, and Lyudmila put her phone down next to a blue folder. She opened it one last time, straightened the pages carefully so they were in order, and closed it. On the very first page in the line “Tuesday, 6:00 PM – 10:00 PM” her name was printed. Lyudmila suddenly thought that somewhere in Alla’s bag there was a checkered notebook, and tonight there would be a new line added about the evening nurse, and tomorrow someone would carefully check it off.
Musya strolled into the kitchen and demanded dinner. Lyudmila poured out her food, put the kettle on, and went to the hallway to check if her boots were still in place. The boots were standing on the striped rug exactly as she’d left them—no one had pushed them back to the wall.
“It’s good, Musya, that’s not my notebook to worry about,” she said to the cat.
Musya completely agreed and went back to her meal.
